Sherlock's Exception
by Let'sGetLostInTheTARDIS
Summary: John has another sister, with a bad habit of falling in with the wrong crowd. After she completes University, John insists that she come and stay with them while she tries to sort her life out. Sherlock isn't used to sharing his space with a woman, especially one that can come surprisingly close to matching his own wit. AU. Rated T for now, but may change to M later on.
1. Emily's Arrival

Sherlock's Exception

**Trigger warning:** This story does have several references to cutting.

Chapter 1

"Come on Sherlock, could you get up? She's going to be here any minute," John said through the bedroom door. He was getting impatient. For the past half hour he had been trying to get Sherlock awake and presentable, even though it was nearly 5pm already. It was only a few minutes until his sister was scheduled to arrive. Today was the first time in over a year that John would be spending some real time with her; time that didn't involve a screen of some sort.

His youngest sister, Emily, had been spending a lot of time abroad. After the semester she took out in university to visit America, she had been riding the travel bug all over the continent. Fortunately, she was now back in England, hoping to land a job and settle down.

That was partly why John had invited her to stay with them. While Emily was certainly scattered sometimes, drifting about, seemingly unsure about what it was she wanted to do, she was quite good at detective work. Of course, she wasn't as good as Sherlock, but she definitely had something. She noticed things no one else did, and could usually piece them together, given the right circumstances. Hopefully she could try out her skills on some real cases and get a bit of experience at the same time.

However, growing up, she was generally quite cocky about this talent, and John secretly wanted Sherlock to knock her down a few pegs.

"Seriously Sherlock, this is really - " He was cut off by the buzz of the doorbell.

"Oh damn, that's her. Sherlock!"

This time Sherlock emerged, clad in a clean white button up and black pants. John was just thankful he was in real clothes.

"Stop fretting about, John. You'll give yourself a permanent heart palpitation."

"Why didn't you answer me the first ten times?" John asked, frustrated.

"I was busy,"

John huffed.

"Fine, whatever. Just remember what I told you earlier and watch what you say. Please. She's going to be here for a while and I'd like very much if cynical or awkward situations were kept at a minimum."

"I'll do my best." Sherlock said, nonchalantly.

"That's all I ask," John said, already making his way down the stairs as the doorbell buzzed a second time.

He opened the door to find his sister smiling widely at him. He saw she didn't have her hair up in its normal fashion, and her simple brown curls fell freely over her shoulders. He saw she was wearing a loose knit sweater and red skinny jeans, despite the fact it wasn't particularly cold outside.

"Hi!" she said, delightedly.

John stepped back so she could come inside. Not needing a verbal invitation she stepped right in, dropped her bags, and instantly enveloped John in a tight hug.

"How've you been?" John asked, hugging her back.

"Absolutely fantastic. You?"

"Fine, fine. You know me," He let her go at last. "Come on up I have someone I want you to meet."

John grabbed one of the two bags she had brought with her. Just as they were about to go up Mrs. Hudson came bustling out of the door adjacent to the stairwell. She was wearing an apron and was covered in flour – obviously right in the middle of baking something.

"Hello! You must be John's sister." Mrs. Hudson said, attempting to wipe her hands off on her apron, which honestly didn't do much good seeing as that had just as much flour on it.

"Emily," Emily greeted, as she offered out her hand.

"Mrs. Hudson, dear," She returned as she shook Emily's hand, leaving some flour behind in the process.

"My landlady," John added. He turned to Mrs. Hudson, "What're you cooking?"

"Oh the church is having a bake sale, so I've made some lemon squares, cookies – oh! I forgot the cookies were still in the oven." A look of dawning worry came over her face. "Excuse me, I have to go take them out. Nice to meet you Emily," Mrs. Hudson said, hurrying away.

"I like her," Emily said, as the door closed behind Mrs. Hudson.

"Everybody likes Mrs. Hudson," John chuckled. "She's a very sweet lady. Anyway, shall we go up?"

"We shall," Emily replied as she lifted her bag. "Oh wow, you would take the lighter one," She joked, feigning annoyance.

"Well they are _your_ bags. You can manage," John started climbing the stairs; intentionally swinging the bag he was carrying, drawing attention to the fact that it was much lighter.

"Always the gentleman - Oi! You're going to knock me over," she complained, pressing up against the wall to avoid being hit.

John just laughed, as they made it to the top and he opened the door. Emily let a chuckle slip as well, despite having to dodge blows to the head.

They finally got into the flat, and John headed straight to his bedroom, lugging the suitcase along behind him. Emily followed.

It was a bit dark inside his room, with a bookshelf adorning one of the walls. There was a small fireplace in the corner with a bundle of wood next to it, and a nightstand next to the bed. There was a very cosy feel to the room, which Emily appreciated. John set Emily's bag down next to the bed. However, Emily hovered in the doorway.

"Oh no, John. I'm not putting you out, I'll sleep in the living room."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're a guest. I'm not going to have you sleep on the couch." John came forward to take her bag from her.

"But - "

"No, I'm serious. You're sleeping in here," John insisted. He held out his hand for Emily's bag. She paused for a second, and then sighed, before relinquishing it.

"Okay, but we're switching it up every few days."

"Whatever you say – oh wow you're right this bag is much heavier," He grinned as he placed it beside the other one.

"Okay, well feel free to make yourself at home. That door there is Sherlock's room," John gestured to a second door across the room. "I suggest not going in there, well, ever really. You can make a fire whenever you want just don't burn down the flat. Other than that, just settle in. Try not to snoop too deeply." He added as an afterthought. John didn't have anything to hide, but it was still his bedroom and he wanted to keep some privacy.

"I wasn't going to snoop!" Emily exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

Just then they heard a loud crash, followed by a string of curses.

"And, that'd be Sherlock. Heaven knows what he's up to. It's best not to ask sometimes. Fair warning though: he's a bit… blunt. He's promised to be on his best behaviour, but you never know with him. Try not to take anything he says to heart."

"Sure," Emily dismissed. She didn't believe that anyone would outright insult her upon first meeting, no matter what John said.

"Let's go introduce you then," John slipped by and led the way through the living room and into the kitchen where Sherlock was.

There was shattered glass and some type of yellow liquid all over the floor. Sherlock was sitting at the table, his hands pressed together in front of his face. He didn't move when John approached, Emily trailing right behind him.

"Watch where you walk, there's glass," Sherlock said, staring ahead intently.

"I can see that. How did you make such a mess? I was only gone five minutes." John said, stopping at the doorway and examining the wreck in front of him.

"I was testing something." Sherlock said slightly vehemently. He was obviously upset that his experiment hadn't worked.

There was silence for a few seconds. Sherlock still didn't move, while John and Emily stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Well, my sister's here," John stated, slightly annoyed. "How about you get up and, you know, greet her."

"Oh, yes, sorry. Your sister," Sherlock said with an air of surprise, as if he had completely forgotten that she had arrived not moments before. He turned to look at her for the first time, sizing her up. Then he stood and stepped over to her, stepping carefully over the broken glass.

Emily held out her hand for the second time that evening, "Emily Watson," she said.

"Sherlock Holmes," he said, taking her hand in his. "Pleasure."

"Emily's interested in detective work," John interjected. "She could help us out some."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, a smirk threatening to cross his face.

"Any good?" he asked.

"Well I - " Emily started, but John interrupted.

"She's very good. Might even give you a run for your money." This time Sherlock's smirk really did come out.

"Shush John. I can answer questions," Emily reprimanded.

"Is he right?" Sherlock asked Emily, clearly unconvinced.

"Well I don't know. How good are you?"

"Very."

"Okay."

It was silent for a few moments. Sherlock was hoping that she would ask him to prove his wit.

"I'll take your word for it," Emily said at last.

Sherlock was disappointed. He always liked a chance to show off, and this had been a golden opportunity. It wasn't like he couldn't read her already – string of boyfriends, most of whom were bad influences, travelled abroad, lived off a student's budget, keeping a secret from John. He was quite curious about that last one, but decided since he didn't voice his observations now was not the time to press for answers.

John was disappointed too, but also surprised. He never knew Emily to pass up an opportunity to showcase her wit. Maybe she could tell that she wouldn't be able to outsmart the cleverest detective of all time. If that was the case, she was more intelligent than John gave her credit for.

"I'm going to go unpack now," Emily said, breaking John and Sherlock out of their train of thought. "You know, if you need me or anything. It was nice meeting you Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock just nodded in her direction and watched as she scampered off. John came up to him.

"You know, you should really clean this up. Mrs. Hudson will have a fit if she sees."

"I need to think. This case I'm working on is rather puzzling," Sherlock said. He swept past John and flopped unceremoniously onto the couch, bringing his hands up to his face once more, lost in thought.

John let escape an annoyed sigh, and set to work cleaning up after Sherlock, as he had done so many other times in the past.

**There you are! Sorry not much happened in this chapter, but I needed to get the pleasantries out of the way. If you don't mind, leave a review. Even though this is my first story, please don't hold back any criticism. I need to get better. :)**


	2. Dinner

Sherlock's Exception

Chapter 2

**A/N: Just to be clear on the floor plan, in my head I originally put the two bedrooms on the other side of the living room (where the windows are in the show). I know, it probably isn't a big deal, but I only just realized that if I were reading this I'd be incredibly confused to why they keep walking through the living room to get to the kitchen, seeing as it's not set up that way in the show. Okay! That's all, enjoy! :)**

Once John had cleaned up all the glass and mysterious liquid (which he was very careful not to touch), he started dinner. It was a rare occasion. John usually ordered in if he even ate a proper meal, but figured since it was Emily's first night here, he should make something special.

John wasn't a particularly brilliant cook, so he had trouble deciding on what to make. After flipping through several cookbooks, he gave up and decided to just throw some chicken in the oven and sprinkle some type of seasoning on it. Emily would still appreciate it – she was under no delusions about John's cooking skills.

As he prepared the chicken, Sherlock came into the kitchen, looking miffed.

"Figured out whatever you were working on?" John asked, as he tried to remember whether herbs went on the chicken before or after you cooked it.

"Your sister's playing music and I can hear it through the door. It's obnoxious," Sherlock said.

"So? Go ask her to turn it down," John said. Sherlock turned around, and went off to presumably do just that.

"Politely!" John shouted after him.

Sherlock knocked on Emily's door. She didn't answer. The music was probably too loud to hear anything over. Annoyed, Sherlock opened the door and walked right in. Emily was on the bed, lying on her stomach. Her laptop was open and the glow from the screen illuminated her face.

Seeing the door open, she turned and saw Sherlock standing in the doorway.

"Your music is obnoxious," he told her. "Could you turn it off?"

Emily gave him a look that clearly meant he could have been more tactful in his request. Nevertheless, she turned it down a little.

"I'm not turning it off. I need to listen to music while blogging," she told him.

Sherlock groaned. Another blogger.

"As long as I don't hear it. Sound carries in this flat, and I need to be able to think," he said.

"Okay," Emily replied, turning her head back to the screen. Sherlock walked out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. Emily didn't see how that would help with the sound issue, but was too lazy to get up and close it herself so she let it be.

_He's rather attractive, _she thought, as she watched him leave. _I wonder if he has a girlfriend._ As soon as the idea crossed her mind she smiled and shook her head. _Not with that attitude of his. Definitely not._ She chuckled and turned her music up a little, deciding to update her followers with a short snippet about this guy, Sherlock.

~…~…~

About an hour later, the smell of dinner filled the entire flat. This was enough to pull Emily out of her room to check and see how John was doing. She wandered though the living room straight to the kitchen, passing Sherlock, who was busy on John's laptop and paid her no notice.

"Need any help?" Emily asked as she entered the kitchen.

"Nope, it's all set. Sit down." John was bustling around, grabbing silverware and plates. Emily took them from John and set the table before she sat.

"Sherlock, foods up," he called into the other room. John opened the oven and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the chicken was a nice golden brown, rather than a black or pink, which is what he half expected.

Meanwhile, Emily's phone buzzed in her back pocket. She flipped it out and opened the text, which she saw was from Amber, one of her friends from University:

**You're back in London today, yeah? I haven't seen you in forever. We should go out tonight, I'll pick you up.**

"Were you planning anything for tonight?" Emily asked John, looking up from her phone.

"No, why, where are you scampering off to?"

"Amber wants to hang out. Maybe go to a pub or club or something," Emily said.

"Yeah, that's fine," John replied. He set the chicken down on the table, calling out to Sherlock again.

"I wasn't asking permission," Emily laughed, and texted Amber back along with John's address. But it was true, she wasn't asking for permission. Those days were thankfully long behind her. John was 8 years her senior, and growing up he was always in charge. She got into the habit of asking him when she wanted to go out rather than asking her parents. This was partially because her parents were usually working, but mostly because John near always said yes.

Of course, when she was 16 John discovered she was just going out to drink or smoke at some party or another. This didn't surprise him as much as it disappointed him, and kept her on a tighter leash from that point on, even though she promised him that she wouldn't do anything like it anymore.

At this point Sherlock strode in, taking the seat across from Emily's. John settled in too, after setting a bowl of carrots on the table, which he had cooked as an afterthought.

They all helped themselves to the meal and dug in. It was really rather good, which surprised everyone. Emily looked over at John who really seemed quite proud of himself.

"So how was your trip, to, where'd you go last? You went back to the U.S. right?" John asked.

"Yeah, It was great! Oh my God, there was this party and some kid over there, he had an entire pound of…" She trailed off when she realized whom she was talking to. She couldn't tell her John that she had taken up weed again.

"An entire pound of…" She looked at the table. "Carrots. It was crazy… He never ate vegetables and he… he ate them all of them." She sipped her water awkwardly, wishing it were something stronger.

A look of amusement crossed Sherlock's face as he realized instantly what she had meant to say. Frankly, it didn't take John much longer, and he looked at her disapprovingly.

"I see," he said. "Anything else?"

"I went to church," Emily blurted out. John raised an eyebrow at her; he knew she wasn't religious. Sherlock snickered.

Reaching out to her glass to take another drink she found it was empty. Sherlock grabbed it and went to the fridge.

"What do you want?" He asked, with a knowing smirk.

"Whatever you got," Emily said as she held her forehead in her hand, partially blocking her face from John. Sherlock took a beer that was sitting at the front and filled up her glass. The second he put it down in front of her she snatched it up and downed half of it.

"You know," John started. "Maybe you shouldn't go out tonight. I mean, you only just got here."

"No, it's fine!" Emily said. She knew he wouldn't forbid her from going out or anything, but she still wanted to convince him that she'd be responsible. "Amber doesn't do anything like that anyway."

"What, eat carrots?" Sherlock asked slyly.

"No. She never eats carrots," Emily affirmed. "Excuse me, I should get ready. She'll be here soon." Emily got up from the table and strode out of the kitchen to the bedroom.

John and Sherlock watched her go until she closed the door behind her.

"I want you to keep an eye on her, Sherlock," John spoke quietly on the off chance she could still hear them.

"Why would I do that?" He asked. "I have work I need to do."

"Please. I don't want her getting hurt." John pleaded. He didn't like the path Emily was going, and worried about where she might end up if she continued down it.

"Fine, I suppose. I already found her blog anyway, it shouldn't be too hard. From first glance it looks like she posts her entire life on it." It was true. He had already read what she put up earlier about him being attractive. He wasn't particularly interested in the musings of the young woman, but he supposed if he had to read them, at least he'd get a self-esteem boost out of it.

"Thank you," John said.

At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Emily rushed out of her room and down the stairs, purse swinging in hand. Throwing a quick goodbye over her shoulder, she left, slamming the door behind her.

**A/N: Please review!**


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